Yes, it had come to this: that the great actress, with the heart and purity of a child, had become so interested, so fascinated—if that is the right word—with this stranger, that the thought of not seeing him again, or hearing his voice, was intolerable.
Her steps grew less hurried as she neared home, and her thoughts had crystalized into this shape.
“After all, where is the harm? He is good and kind, and I have so few friends—no one, excepting dear old Jeffrey!—that I cannot afford to lose him. Besides, I shall act better if I know that he is in the theatre. I don’t know why that is, but it is so. And Jeffrey ought to be glad of that. Oh, if I could only tell him! But I cannot!”
Once during the day she did make the effort; she began to talk about the fields and the beautiful on-coming of spring, but Jeffrey would not listen. He was full of the business of the theatre, full of expected offers from the great London managers, and paid no attention to what she was saying, merely remarking that, after all, the open air was the place to study in.
To study in! Yes, she knew that! It was in the open air that she had first seen Lord Neville, and learned the way to speak Juliet’s “Good-night!”
She did not leave the house again that day, but spent it studying her part. There were one or two points that she had missed, so Jeffrey said, and she went over them again and again.
And how do you think she mastered them? By imagining that Lord Neville was the Romeo, and it was for love of him she suffered and died!
“It was wrong?” Yes, but life is full of wrong, and it is not until youth is passed; and experience is gained, that we learn to distinguish the wrong from the right.
The night came, and with it the fly to carry them to the theatre.
There was an immense crowd collected outside the pit and gallery doors, and the manager met them with the glad tidings that all the reserved seats were taken.